


I Need You (Like I Need a Gaping Head Wound)

by kuklash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Angst, Blood and Violence, Dark, F/F, Government Conspiracy, Kidnapping, Pre-Modern AU (1999), Strangers to Lovers, Unhappy Ending, like really unhappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23235709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuklash/pseuds/kuklash
Summary: “And that was the new track from Lou Bega: ‘Mambo No. 5' off his new album ‘A Little Bit of Mambo'. Stay tuned for Backstreet, Britney Spears, and The Red Hot Chili Peppers comin’ at’cha in the next hour.”Harper shuts off the radio and leans back in the driver’s seat, taking her hands off the wheel and rubbing her temples. Traffic is worse than normal today, meaning she’s gonna be late. She’s already 45 minutes late getting back from lunch, meaning that Roan will probably call her into his office. That’s the last thing she needs today.Harper nearly jumps out of her skin when the passenger door opens and a tall, brunette woman vaults into the car.“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU D--”“Drive,” the woman says, voice barely above a whisper.Written for The 100 Chopped: March Madness Round 1Tropes are as follows:- Harper McIntyre- Angst- Strangers to Lovers- Road Trip AU
Relationships: Echo/Harper McIntyre
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10
Collections: Chopped Madness





	I Need You (Like I Need a Gaping Head Wound)

“And that was the new track from Lou Bega: ‘Mambo No. 5' off his new album ‘A Little Bit of Mambo'. Stay tuned for Backstreet, Britney Spears, and The Red Hot Chili Peppers comin’ at’cha in the next hour.”

Harper shuts off the radio and leans back in the driver’s seat, taking her hands off the wheel and rubbing her temples. Traffic is worse than normal today, meaning she’s gonna be late. She’s already 45 minutes late getting back from lunch, meaning that Roan will probably call her into his office. That’s the last thing she needs today.

Harper nearly jumps out of her skin when the passenger door opens and a tall, brunette woman vaults into the car.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU D--”

“Drive,” the woman says, voice barely above a whisper.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN DRIVE?”

The woman moves her right arm to reveal the gun she’s aiming at Harper.

“Drive. Now.”

Harper freezes. She’s going to die. She’s going to die. She can’t die. She’s too young to die. Too much she hasn’t done. Too many places she hasn’t gone. Too many--

“Just drive.”

The words puncture through the fog in her mind, snapping her back to reality. She slams the wheel to the left and weaves through oncoming traffic onto a less busy side street.

“Take 270. Get us out of the city.”

“Lay on the bed,” the kidnapper says, her voice still commanding and stern, even after 4 hours of near silent driving.

Harper reluctantly complies. There’s nothing she can do. The kidnapper hasn’t taken her gun off Harper for 4 hours, not even when she forced her to walk into the motel office and ask for a room. There’s no choice. 

The kidnapper pulls out two pairs of handcuffs and locks both of Harper’s wrists to the bed frame, before she walks over to the radio and turns it on, keeping the volume low. Tears begin welling up in Harper’s eyes. She dreads what’s coming next as Cher’s voice rings from the radio.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead, the kidnapper puts a wet hand towel in Harper’s mouth, takes a pillow off the bed and lays down on the floor. Soon after, the soft breathing of the kidnapper fills the room, and Harper begins to understand how alone she really is. Her screams for help are muffled by the hand towel. Her panicked movements are restricted by the handcuffs and overpowered by the radio. She is alone. She is helpless. She is alone.

The morning comes slowly, but when it finally dawns, the kidnapper wakes with a start. She bolts upright, gun drawn on the door. But nothing happens.

With a labored breath, the kidnapper puts her gun down and gets to her feet. Her eyes meet Harper’s, and Harper sees a flicker of something human. But then it’s gone. Harper watches as the kidnapper walks over to her and begins undoing her restraints.

“If you scream, I’ll have to kill you,” she says, not far from Harper’s ear. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The two get in Harper’s car and begin driving again. The silence is heavy, bearing down on Harper like a weighted blanket. It‘s deafening. Panic begins flooding her mind. Her kidnapper hasn’t made a phone call. This isn’t about money, not that her family has any to give. This is about something else. Something unknown and big and scary and dangerous. Harper’s breathing speeds up as the panic fills her mind.

“You’re going to be fine.”

The kidnapper’s voice shakes Harper, like someone shaking her awake after a long sleep. Her breathing slows, but she’s still scared and alone. She keeps driving.

“You can pull over here. I could use something to eat.”

Harper pulls the car over, stopping in the parking lot of a small diner. The glow of the red neon lights bask over the kidnapper’s face as she turns to Harper.

“If you make a scene, I’ll have to do something I really don’t want to do.”

Her eyes bore into Harper’s in a way that makes her squirm in her seat.

“Please don’t make me do something I don’t want to do.”

Harper nods slowly, understanding the gravity of the situation. If she acts like anything is wrong, the waitress could get involved and the kidnapper will start shooting. Harper will be the reason people die. She can’t handle that.

The two walk into the diner, and for the first time in over 24 hours, Harper doesn’t have a gun pointed at her. They sit in a corner booth, with the kidnapper’s back to the wall. Her eyes are constantly busy, scanning the room.

“Why are you doing this?”

Harper’s voice almost scares herself, not used to the sound of her own voice anymore. The kidnapper stops scanning the room and meets Harper’s gaze. The intensity of her look almost drives Harper to drop eye contact, but she has to stay strong. If she wants to survive she has to be strong.

“People are after me.”

The kidnapper’s voice is softer than before. She sounds scared. Vulnerable. Alone.

“They think I did something I didn’t.”

Then it’s gone. The softness, the emotion, the vulnerability. Gone as suddenly as it arrived. They eat in silence.

Harper is trapped again. Handcuffed to another bed in another motel, mouth gagged as the radio plays softly. Her kidnapper stands at the table on the other side of the room, looking through her supplies, counting money and bullets. Harper tries desperately to fall asleep, for some sort of solace and relaxation. But it doesn’t come.

“Harper?”

The name sounds foreign, like a name of a different person. Not her name. But it is.

“Harper is a pretty name.”

Then it’s back to silence. Back to thoughts. Back to panic. Back to being alone. Her kidnapper is on the floor, breathing deeply, and Harper is alone and trapped.

“You can call me Echo.”

Harper can hardly breathe. Kidnappers don’t tell you their names if they plan to keep you alive. That’s what her parents told her when they tried to give her a lecture on staying safe in the big city. But now she knows Echo’s name. Echo’s planning on killing her.

“Echo isn’t my real name, but if you need something, you can call me that.”

Harper begins breathing easier. A fake name. Something innocent. Not dangerous. She’ll be fine. At least for now.

More driving. Always more driving. But it’s better now. They can talk, however little they actually do. But just the knowledge that they  _ can  _ makes the day better.

Another diner marks the end of this leg of the journey. As the two sit in their booth, Harper gets the courage to ask another question.

“What do they think you did?”

Echo stops chewing and swallows slowly.

“They think I sold secrets.”

Harper eyes her suspiciously.

“What kind of secrets?”

“The kind of secrets that get agents killed by very bad people.”

Suddenly it all makes sense. The quiet intensity, the seemingly never ending cash, the always steady gun.

“You work for the government, don’t you?”

A beat of silence.

“CIA. I was an agent.”

Another beat of silence.

“Did you do it?”

“No.”

Harper thinks she believes her.

Another night and morning gone, another day of driving ahead. Harper settles into the car and prepares herself for another long drive. She still doesn’t know where they’re going, but she knows it’s west and it’s far.

“You can stay here.”

Echo’s voice is different, almost pained. Harper simply looks at her in confusion.

“I’ve got a far enough headstart. I can drop you here and keep going. You don’t know where I’m going. You won’t be a danger to me.”

She doesn’t know why, but Harper isn’t happy with the idea. Last night was different. There was no gag, but when Echo went to put the handcuffs on, her hand brushed Harper’s. Harper’s mind races with the memory. The feeling. The look. The long look. The way Echo’s cheeks filled with color. The way her eyes darted away. The way Harper knew she wasn’t supposed to feel.

“No.”

Echo turns to look at her, confused but seemingly grateful. Harper starts the car and the two head west.

“So, who are you?”

Harper’s question clearly catches Echo off guard. The girl’s eyes dart towards Harper, but she doesn’t make eye contact.

"Someone who asked the wrong questions."

The space between sentences is packed with a heavy silence, but a silence that's different than before. A remorseful, contemplative silence.

“I got word that there was an information leak, that someone had sold government secrets and that it got agents killed.

“I started an investigation, but someone got in the way. Marcus Kane.”

Echo’s voice practically drips with vitriol, malice coating her words.

“Kane set me up. He falsified some documents and got me blacklisted.”

Harper’s heart breaks for the girl.

“If they find me, they’ll kill me to seal the leak.”

Tears fill Echo’s eyes and Harper reaches for her hand. Her fingers slowly find their way between Echo’s fingers, their warmth linked. Echo looks at her, surprised and confused, but Harper simply stares at the road, a slight smile on her lips.

“I’ll help you, Echo,” she says, giving her hand a small squeeze. “Anything is better than working for my handsy boss.”

More tears fall from Echo’s face, but the two continue driving, hand in hand.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“Wyoming,” Echo tells her, her smile not leaving her lips. “I have a friend out there who can help us.”

Harper can’t help but think of how different Echo looks these days. The stern words and mistrustful looks replaced by soft hands and big smiles.

“Wyoming sounds nice.”

Harper unlocks the motel room door, leading the way inside, but never letting her hand lose Echo’s. As they settle into the new room, Harper watches the woman, seeing her as a friend, not a stranger. Someone she cares about. Someone she cares for.

“Hey,” Harper starts, causing Echo to spin around.

The two women stare at each other for a palpable pause, before Harper grabs Echo and pulls her in for a deep, emotional kiss.

Harper awakes to a new feeling: someone in bed beside her. She’s not alone. Not this time.

“Ashe.”

The soft morning light fills the room as Echo rolls over to face Harper. She looks so different. So much more human.

“My real name is Ashe.”

After another day of driving, the two pull into yet another diner. The red neon lights illuminate Ashe’s face as she smiles at Harper.

“We’re about halfway there,” Ashe informs Harper.

“I wish we didn’t have to take backroads,” Harper complains jokingly. “They really slow us down.”

“You know I have to take us the long way to keep us in minimal danger.”

Ashe’s words are met with Harper sticking her tongue out and scrunching her nose.

Ashe’s laugh is like music to Harper’s ears as the two head inside.

“Once we get there, we can focus on getting your name cleared.”

Ashe’s eyes light up at the words.

“I think I want to start with something else.”

“I have no doubt that you do,” Harper says with a mischievous smile.

The window shatters, sending glass flying around Harper. Her skin stinging, she tumbles to the floor, slamming her head into the linoleum. Her vision goes fuzzy. Harper scrambles across the floor towards Ashe, fighting with gravity as she stumbles to her love.

Ashe’s body lies limp, blood gushing from the hole in her head. Harper puts pressure to the wound, but it doesn’t help. She’s gone. Harper buries her face in her lover’s limp chest, holding her as tightly as she can manage. She’s barely aware of the diner door opening as a man in a suit walks in.   
“Good shot, Diyoza,” the man announces as he walks over to the girls. “Make sure to take notes McCreary. This is how you take down a target without killing the hostage.”

Harper can barely comprehend what’s happening as the man pulls her off the body and kneels down to speak to her.

“Everything is okay. You’re safe now.”

“Agent Kane, Harper McIntyre doesn’t seem to be a threat to national security. It appears that Ashe didn’t tell her anything worthwhile.”

Kane doesn’t take his eyes off the security monitor.

“Very well, Agent Blake. I’ll see that she is taken home safely.”

That seems to satisfy the young man, as he promptly leaves the office and heads back to whatever worthless job he’s been working on.

Even if Ashe never told the girl anything, she’s a loose end. And he hates loose ends.

Kane walks over to his desk phone and dials a number.

“McCreary. It’s Kane. I have another job for you.”

After he hangs up, Kane jots down instructions for his underling. He rips the paper out of his notebook and returns to watching the broken girl on the screen, tears cutting through the blood still staining her face.

“What a shame,” he thinks to himself as he looks his note over one more time.

  * **Take her home**


  * **Plant evidence**


  * **Ensure there is no trail**



**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from "Love You Like an Alcoholic" by The Taxpayers. It seemed like a fitting title, as it's also an angsty love story.
> 
> I hope this was Angsty enough for you :p I know it's a real downer ending, which was not in my outline, but that's just where the story went when I was writing it.


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